


The Thin Brown Line

by molo (esteefee)



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: April Showers Challenge, Chromatic Character, Episode Related, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-30
Updated: 2005-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:05:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/molo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scenes from <i>the Plague.</i> Harold's seen a lot in his time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thin Brown Line

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to CC for the beta; I owe her serious cash.

Harold Dobey kept his eyes on the brown, taped line as he walked heavily down the hospital corridor. He was more accustomed to following the red line, the one that led directly to the waiting doors of the Emergency Room. He'd followed that red line more times than he cared to remember, each one a lasting blow to the heart. _You'd think brown would be better, somehow,_ he thought. But it wasn't. Apparently the only difference was slow and painful versus quick and dirty. Both tended to lead to the same bleak destination. A destination he'd never wanted for any of his officers, let alone the two detectives he secretly thought of as his 'boys.'

 _But they aren't boys. They're men. Fine men, and willing to pay the cost._ He felt the familiar tearing pain of being caught between his pride of them and his fear for them. It was a space he'd occupied for over seven years now.

He turned the corner and lifted his eyes from the floor, seeing Starsky standing his usual vigil outside of Hutch's isolation room. Dr. Kaufman was next to him, talking to him. She put a hand on his arm but Starsky pulled away to stare through the glass. Dobey saw the doctor shake her head and then she was walking toward him, her lips pressed in a grim line. Dobey had thought that, having located Callendar, this visit would be a more hopeful one than his last.

His mind flashed unbidden on the image of Hutchinson trying to give him the thumbs up while he gasped desperately through an oxygen mask. Dobey closed his eyes for a moment, and then cleared his throat as Dr. Kaufman approached him.

"What's the news, Doctor?" he asked quietly. She raised bloodshot eyes. _From tears? Or exhaustion? Probably both._

"Hutch has been administered the serum. But…" Her voice faded.

"But?" he prompted gently.

"But…I don't know," she said, sadness permeating her tone. "His blood oxygen levels are low in spite of the O2 we're giving him. He just has too much fluid in his lungs, and his white blood cell count remains low as well. His immune system is so severely compromised he might not be able to generate enough antibodies to fight off the virus even _with_ the help of the serum." She stopped, slightly out of breath. "I'm sorry, Captain. I know this can't be…I know how much you both care for him."

Heart like lead, Dobey turned his head to look at Starsky, who was still standing at the window, one hand raised with the tips of his fingers pressed to the glass.

"They're like family to me," Dobey admitted. "I know them like I know my own children, Dr. Kaufman, and one thing I can tell you is they are stronger together than they ever are apart. Can't you let Starsky in to visit him? Surely now that you have the serum—"

"I'm sorry," the doctor interrupted quickly, as if she had heard the argument before. Which she most probably had—couched in less polite terms, he was sure. "The risk is just too great—"

"Do you think that man cares about _risk_?" Dobey said, waving his hand at Starsky, who hadn't moved, though he shifted a bit from foot to foot, as if trying to ease his legs. Dobey recognized the gambit from his patrol days, and smiled faintly.

"The risk isn't to Sergeant Starsky, Captain," Kaufman said tiredly. "Hutch is probably no longer infectious and, besides, Starsky was administered the serum just a little while ago. The problem is _he_ is a risk to _Hutch_. Any stray germ…Hutch's immune system is not up to fighting anything at this point. We even keep his contact with nurses and doctors to an utter minimum."

Dobey thought for a moment, and then said carefully, "Sometimes the risk is worth the possible benefit, Doctor. To both of them. I'm asking you to, please, consider letting Starsky in to be near him, to encourage him. For both their sakes. It could be the one thing to make the difference."

Kaufman still looked undecided, balanced between cost and benefit, and he pressed. "Surely if things get any worse, you won't keep Starsky from having a chance to say—" Dobey couldn't say the word.

"No, of course, I…Captain, you might be right. I know there have been some studies about the beneficial effects of giving patients encouragement…of having someone nearby who…cares."

 _'Cares' doesn't begin to cover it, Miss,_ thought Dobey, but he nodded. "I know these two. They've pulled each other out of darker holes than this one," was all he could add. He thanked her, and then moved past to approach Starsky.

"Starsky. Dave," Dobey said when there was no response.

"Hate it when you call me that," Starsky muttered. "Never means anything good." He drew a hand over his exhausted-looking face and sighed. "Saw you talking to Dr. Kaufman. You got the news?"

"Yeah, I got it," Dobey said, glad to spare Starsky from having to impart the information himself.

"He's gonna die anyway, Cap," Starsky said in a harsh whisper. "In spite of _everything_. And they won't even let me in to try—" His voice cut off suddenly and he made a soft sound. To Dobey's dismay, Starsky's shoulders began shaking.

"Oh, son," Dobey said, and brought his hand up to try to clasp his arm, but Starsky turned away, raising one hand in warning. Dobey watched as he visibly pulled himself together, straightening his back and wiping a quick hand across his eyes. That his control had broken at all was a surprise to Dobey, who had seen the man blind-eye death when it was staring him straight in the face.

"You need some rest." He continued through Starsky's vehement headshake, "I mean it. You haven't slept in days."

"I ain't leavin' him," was all Starsky said.

"Just for a few hours," Dobey said, finding the quiet denial a little disconcerting coming from his usually hot-tempered detective.

"I can't help him," Starsky replied. "I can't _help_ him, but I can be here. That's all."

"Dave," Dobey tried again, feeling uncomfortably manipulative, "I spoke to the doctor. She might let you in to see him…" He continued more firmly as Starsky turned his head, his damp, hopeful eyes staring at him. " _If_ ," Dobey stressed, "You stay healthy. And that means getting some sleep. She won't let you in there if you come down with some idiotic cold and make yourself a risk to Hutch."

Starsky turned his eyes back to the glass, and Dobey's followed them to the yellow-clad form huddled beneath the oxygen tent. He realized then that he'd been afraid to look before. What he saw gave him no reassurance.

Through the clear plastic he saw the heaving chest and sweat-soaked face of his detective and friend. The gasping struggle was made even more painful by the lack of any sound. It was as if Dobey were watching a silent film, one with no promise of a happy ending.

_No. I won't believe that. I can't. Lord, I ask you. Spare this man. He's earned your grace._

"If she lets me in to see him," Starsky sounded pathetically eager, "I'll go home right after and sack out. I promise."

Dobey nodded and clapped Starsky on the shoulder before he went down the hall to Kaufman's temporary office. He knocked before entering and found her already on the phone arranging for scrubs, gloves and a mask for Starsky. _So, the doctor has a real heart._

She nodded at him as she hung up the phone. "It's all set."

 _I should go,_ he thought as he returned and saw Starsky already suiting up. Dobey had other officers to visit in this very ward. And the reduced work force had cases piling up on his desk, and the Mayor and the Chief frantic. But he couldn't tear himself away from the window.

He watched as Starsky approached the bed where his partner lay dying.

Hutch's limbs were in constant motion. Dobey's guess was the pain in his joints wouldn't allow him to be still. When Starsky approached, Hutch's hand was raised to his throat, fingers pulling at the skin there as if it could help him breathe. Starsky unzipped the side panel and caught at Hutch's hand with his gloved one.

Hutch's eyes were half-opened, the bright blue glazed with fever, head tilted back. He didn't seem to register Starsky's presence. Dobey raised his eyes to Starsky's face. The mask was moving as if he were speaking, but Dobey couldn't hear anything through the glass. Hutch continued to move restlessly.

 _He's too far gone into the fever,_ Dobey thought with deep sadness. _He doesn't even know that Starsky's there._ Somehow that hurt more than all the rest. Dobey felt an embarrassing moisture sting his eyes.

Then Starsky reached in with his other hand and put it to Hutch's forehead, pushing back the damp strands that clung. Starsky's face was pressed close against the clear plastic of the tent, his mask moving.

And Hutch blinked his eyes and turned his head to track to Starsky's face. Dobey held his breath when he saw Hutch's mouth move in the ghost of a smile. Then, as clearly as if he were standing two feet away, Dobey saw Hutch mouth the word, 'Sorry.'

Starsky shook his head violently but Hutch only smiled again, briefly, and then he was back to gasping. Starsky hand squeezed Hutch's until Dobey's could see the fingers whiten, and he heard a muffled 'Hutch, damn it,' through the pane of glass.

Dobey's heart sank as he realized it was time for him to go _._ It was damned difficult to walk away; this might be the last time he saw Hutchinson alive. He tapped on the window and Starsky raised his head. Dobey waved helplessly, and Starsky nodded and gently turned Hutch's head on the pillow.

The glazed eyes were pointed in his direction, but Dobey couldn't tell if they registered the sight of him. Then Hutch's other hand lifted feebly off the bed, only a few inches, but Dobey knew what it meant. He waved again, willing Hutch to see.

 _Hang in there, son. Keep fighting._ Dobey closed his eyes in prayer. _Lord, hear me, please. Kenneth Hutchinson is a good man, a righteous man. Please spare him so that he might return to his good works._

_And, if not, then please grant him peace, and give David Starsky the strength to deal with his loss. Grant us all that strength. God of mercy, hear my prayer._

He took one last look at his detectives, the sick one lying at the boundary of death, and the healthy one standing grimly by his side.

Holding the line.

ooOoo

"Dobey!" he barked into the phone. It had been a day full of mayhem and pressure, and the constant ringing of the telephone was close to putting him over the edge.

"Cap. It's Starsky."

Dobey sank back in his chair, dreading the news the soft voice was about to impart.

"What's the word, Dave?"

"He's still alive, Cap'n."

Dobey heaved out a heavy breath.

"In fact, Judith thinks...that is, she's a little hopeful that his fever might be turning. She says the fact he's still hanging around is good, real good."

Starsky's voice broke on the final words, and Dobey pulled his handkerchief to rub it over his face, surprised at the moisture there.

"That's good news, son."

"Yeah, well. She says we won't know anything for another twenty-four or so."

"How're you holding up? Did you get some rest like you swore you would?" Dobey made his voice stern.

"Well, uh."

"Starsky!"

"Cap, please. I'm fine. I bunked down in the visitor's room for a while. But right now, I just don't think I should go far. In case."

"I'm...I'm praying for him. I'm praying for you both."

"Yeah, huh? Well, it's good somebody is. Look, I gotta get back to Hutch. Just wanted to tell you the news."

Dobey hung up. He was still staring at the phone when it started ringing again.

ooOoo

This time, when Dobey walked along the brown tape, it was with a sense that the line was his friend, leading him on the good path.

He turned the corner and was relieved to see no sign of Starsky leaning against the glass. Instead, as Dobey approached the window, he caught a welcome sight: Starsky, no longer in a mask and gown, seated by Hutch's bed. The tent had been removed in favor of a small tube that was resting just under Hutch's nose. Starsky had one hand glued to Hutch's forearm.

And Hutch was smiling.

"I'm tellin' ya, she's sweet on you," Starsky was saying as Dobey pushed in the door to the isolation room.

"Now that I'm getting better, she never visits," Hutch said, his voice grainy and dry. He breathed a little heavily after he spoke. Starsky jumped up and poured him a cup of water.

Starsky's grin could have powered a small city.

Hutch waved, looking slightly embarrassed as he sipped.

Dobey cleared his throat. "You're looking good, Hutchinson," he said gruffly. It was the truth. Hutch's eyes were clearer, the fever brightness gone, although he still looked sweaty and flushed.

"Not too shabby for a near-corpse, huh?" Hutch said.

Starsky winced, and Dobey didn't miss the apologetic flick of Hutch's eyes toward his partner.

"Not bad at all. You know, you really gave us a scare there, for a while." The honest words came from somewhere unbidden, and Dobey cleared his throat again. "I suppose I should tell you that almost everyone back at Metro is disappointed at the results of the pool."

"P-pool?" Hutch squeaked. Starsky's brows drew together fiercely.

"Yup. Apparently only one lucky fellow bet on the winner." Dobey looked down at his fingernails and then buffed them lightly on the lapel of his jacket.

Hutch burst out laughing, but the chuckle quickly degenerated into a coughing jag. Dobey raised his hand apologetically when Starsky looked daggers at him.

But Hutch was still smiling.

He said hoarsely, "Looks like Rosie's going to get that new bike she's been begging after."

"Deep pink, with a white banana seat and tassels on the handlebars," Dobey intoned gravely.

At last Starsky smiled. "Can she come for a visit?" he said.

Dobey couldn't suppress a frown, and Hutch said quickly, "Let's wait until I get out."

"We'll have a little get-together at our house," Dobey said, smiling at Hutch with gratitude.

Hutch nodded then dropped his head back on his pillow, looking worn out. Starsky gave Dobey a look.

"Well, I guess I'd better get back to work." Dobey approached the bed and put his hand carefully on Hutch's wrist. The blue eyes opened to look at him.

Dobey looked down. "I thank God you're okay, son." He said it softly to the arm under his palm, the pale flesh such a contrast to his own, brown skin. Pretty funny, how two white boys had managed to plant themselves so deeply in his heart and life.

Hutch's hand turned to clasp Dobey's briefly. Dobey raised his eyes to see Hutch's smiling into his.

"Enough with the soap," Starsky growled, and Hutch snorted.

"And you-you..." Dobey sputtered at Starsky. "I expect _you_ to go home and get some real sleep. I need your worthless hide back at Metro before the whole city goes to Hades in a handbasket."

"Nice to know I'm needed," Starsky drawled.

"He's not much use without me, Cap," Hutch said smugly.

Dobey turned back to Hutch. "So I guess _you'd_ better count on getting well in a hurry, Hutchinson," he said gruffly. He turned and exited to their soft laughter.

And followed the ugly brown into the light.

 _Finis_.

December 2005  
San Francisco, CA


End file.
